Herm Edwards has plan to put Arizona State among elite in college football

TEMPE, Ariz. – Herm Edwards is getting all wound up again, which means he cannot remain seated. He pops up from the table and bounds around the corner and out of his office, raising his voice so he can still be heard – out of sight but not out of range – as he explains another facet of his philosophy.

Arizona State coach Herm Edwards talks to his players during the team’s spring game scrimmage.

“We’ve got a slogan on our shirts I gave to the players,” he says – and he bounces back into view to display a gray workout shirt with a pitchfork on the front and a message on the back:

“WORDS AND ACTIONS.”

“Here’s what I tell ‘em,” says Edwards, referring to his Arizona State players. “‘Hey man, does that match up? … If you can do that, you’ll be OK. If you can just do that in life, you’ll be OK.’”

If Arizona State can do it in football, a fascinating experiment will be a stunning success.

It has been five months now since Edwards’ arrival, along with a “New Leadership Model” that, as touted in the school’s 2,600-word official announcement, is supposed to take the Sun Devils’ football program to “unprecedented heights.” Edwards says he knows his hire was met with plenty of skepticism, for plenty of reasons.

He’d been out of coaching for 10 years, away from college football for almost 30. Since he was fired by Kansas City after the 2008 season, he’d been an analyst at ESPN. During a past career, Arizona State athletic director Ray Anderson was an agent; Edwards was a client. But Edwards, who turned 64 last month, says he feels “energized,” that he’d been waiting for the right opportunity – and that he’s confident in his ability.

“I don’t worry about all of that other stuff,” he says. “I know who I am. And I’m not afraid of this.”

His condo on Town Lake is literally steps from Sun Devil Stadium; he’s up and working out at the new $57 million football facility by 4:30 a.m. each morning and spends the day immersed in his new job, without the time or inclination to pay specific attention to what’s been said or written. He shrugs it off.

All those years out of coaching, and even longer away from the college game? He says he wasn’t really out of it.

“When you’re on TV, you’re still coaching, believe it or not,” Edwards says. “You’re just coaching America, you’re not coaching one team.”

There was also his annual dip into coaching high-school all-stars in the Under Armour All America game, which he says “got my juices flowing.” More to the point, Edwards says he found himself, as a TV analyst, studying pro and college football from a big-picture perspective; he says it broadened his knowledge of the game.

“You’re still immersed in football,” he says, “even if you’re not coaching it.”

At least on the public relations front, the entire idea has taken some getting used to. There was that introductory news conference last December, which included Edwards’ current agent taking a turn at the mic and an odd moment when a reporter introduced himself as being from Devils Digest – and things briefly seemed to spin off the rails.

“Devils Digest, huh?” Edwards asked, and then noted that he is Catholic and to “watch out for them devils.”

At that point, some wondered, in all seriousness: Did Edwards even know the Arizona State mascot?

“It’s funny,” he says, laughing, and he notes that he was recruited by Frank Kush and Arizona State (he chose California). “… I was messing with the guy. I was being funny. That’s how I am. I like to have fun. I think people that knew me just go, ‘Oh, there’s coach, he’s having fun.’”

Edwards says the only thing that threw him, just a little, was to learn Arizona State’s primary logo is no longer Sparky the Sun Devil, but instead a pitchfork (which he says “looks like a candle”). Sparky, he says, “is the best one! I mean, c’mon!”

But the news conference, and perhaps that moment, underscored the strangeness of the entire idea – Edwards as Arizona State’s coach, the New Leadership Model, etc. About that: It turns out the New Leadership Model isn’t too different than the models at some other college football programs. Arizona State has divided its administrative and coaching roles in search of efficiency, with senior associate athletic directors overseeing separate administrative and football operations functions – and Edwards overseeing both sides as the CEO, a role he sees as “setting the vision” and reporting to Anderson and Arizona State president Michael Crow.

The new approach includes an expanded and enhanced recruiting apparatus (from two full-time staff members devoted to recruiting to seven) and a specific focus on identifying players. Again, this isn’t all that different than the model employed by college football powers.

Edwards, who pronounced himself amazed back in January and February by all that recruiting entailed (unlike in the NFL, “they get to pick you!”) seems to have settled in. He says he spends between two and three hours daily talking on the phone with recruits or evaluating recruits on video, and that his time at ESPN was an asset; when he made in-home visits, “the whole neighborhood” knew he was there. And here’s a note to watch for the future: Edwards says he’s had former players call him to say they want to send their teenage sons to play for him.

Many of those offspring would presumably fit the recruiting metrics Edwards has devised for the program. He jumps up again and grabs several sheets of paper from his desk. Spreading them out on the table, he explains a position-specific grid of tangible measurements – the desired (if not quite required) height, weight, speed – layered atop intangible assessments. Combined, they produce color-coded grades ranging from “Rare” all the way to “NGE” (Not Good Enough), and they’re based on Edwards’ determination that the program to emulate in the Pac-12 is Stanford, because of the Cardinal’s consistency over the last decade.

It’s all part of “defining your DNA,” as Edwards puts it. And while the system is similar to those used by NFL teams in evaluating draft prospects, it contains more wiggle room in acknowledgment that teenagers are still growing and maturing.

As head coach, Edwards sees his role in part to coach the coaches. To that end, he requires each assistant to detail their practice plans each day, with specific attention to the individual and fundamental skills periods.

“Those two periods, to me, are critical,” he says. “That’s when the teaching moment happens. That’s when players get better. … I tell coaches, ‘If you cannot teach on the grass, you cannot coach for me.’ You have to teach them on the grass, because that’s where they learn.”

They also learn, he says, from a culture of constant competition. It isn’t a unique concept, but it brings us to another ripple from earlier this spring, when Edwards told reporters that after spring practices finished, he would meet with some players and might cut them from the team.

“You know what? Everybody does it,” he says. “This is not the first it’s ever been done in college football. But you know what? I said it. Most don’t say it. I gave (the players) forewarning: ‘Guys, this is how it works, OK? No one’s fault. I’m not pointing at you. Your resume is on that tape.’ I don’t know – that’s how it works."

He’s right on both counts. And it’s the second part – the bluntness – that’s both refreshing and at the same time a little disconcerting, a reminder that maybe Edwards is still learning exactly what he’s gotten into. There’s a reason why, even as other college football coaches essentially, yeah, cut players, they don’t trumpet it. But Edwards says he doesn’t care.

“You’ve got to compete!” he says. “You can’t all of the sudden, ‘Oh, I made it.’ You ain’t made it! I competed every day as a professional football player. … You’ve got to like competing. That’s how your team gets better, when you have competition every day.”

The expectation at Arizona State – the reason Todd Graham was fired after a 7-5 turnaround season and an overall record of 46-32 in six seasons with the Sun Devils – is to compete for and win Pac-12 championships. With enrollment of almost 72,000 in a booming metropolitan area, there’s a perception that the Sun Devils’ football program should be a power. Edwards defines the goal as “competitive consistency,” and returns to Stanford as the standard.

“They’re always in the mix to win the conference and maybe go to the Rose Bowl. They’re always in the conversation,” he says. “That’s what we want to become. That’s the goal. That’s the plan. Then you go from there, but if you do that, you’ve always got a chance – that’s why you‘ve got to understand your DNA.”

To spend a half-hour with Edwards is to hear plenty of motivational aphorisms (affectionately known as “Herm-isms”). He asks questions, then answers them – often with exclamation points. Combined with his energy and enthusiasm, they’re plenty effective; when he’s finished, you feel as though you could, well, play to win the games. Beyond his football acumen, that energy might be Edwards’ best asset, and the biggest reason this fascinating experiment actually could succeed. But among the many things Edwards knows is this: For now, it’s just conversation.